Not Paying Attention
by Cherry PinUp 42
Summary: This is where I came in. Don't ask where it started 'cause I've got no clue. Originally posted 11/3/01. Slash.


**Not Paying Attention**

He's standing there, in all his glory, facing away from me. I can see that he's trembling, even from across the room. It *is* chilly in here, but you couldn't pay me to cover him up. I'm here to play.

I haven't spoken since telling him to strip. I can see his back and shoulders twitch as he decides whether or not to turn around.

"Keep your back to me."

His spine snaps straight at the order, every muscle taut.

"Beautiful," I breath. It's not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but I know he's paying close attention to me.

"Touch yourself."

I can see his jaw move to speak.

"Did I give you permission to speak?"

His shoulders hunch slightly at the disappointment in my voice. He wants to please me. Good.

"Use your fingertips. Only on the parts I can see."

He straightens again and tentatively touches the outsides of his thighs, without bending.

"More. You can move, just don't turn around."

His hands start moving more assuredly. First down to his knees, on the sides, then around the backs of his thighs. His touch is light and breathing deep, but he's still shaking. Good.

"More. Harder."

His fingers start pressing into his thighs, massaging the muscles in a familiar and intimate way. As he draws himself back to his full height, his hands continue moving up until they're manipulating the spot where his legs and butt meet.

"More."

He's still trembling, but it's definitely not from the cold. He's broken out in a light sweat that makes the candlelight glint off the flexing back and arms.

"Spread your legs a bit."

He does so without a word, but as his cheeks move apart, his fingers slip down the crease. I can practically feel the moan he's suppressing. I just noticed a towel at just below head-height. I'm not sure how it's hanging there, but it's perfect.

"Bend at the waist until your forehead is touching the towel."

It takes him a moment to gain balance in this new position. While he's adjusting, his hands are clenched tight on his cheeks, which opens them wide. I can feel my breath hitch, and I know he hears it. He freezes and I can nearly feel the smirk on his face.

He gets himself comfortable and spreads his legs a bit more. I *should* punish him for the presumption, but I'd be punishing myself too.

His hands go back to kneading his ass. Each time his fingers come closer to the center and pull apart just a little more. Sweet. The candles seem to be throwing a bit more light and I can see the hidden pucker for a few seconds at a time.

"More. And let me hear you, just no words."

He moves his fingers into direct contact with the tender flesh, just rubbing faintly. The low moan that escapes his lips hits me squarely in the groin, reminding me that I've been hard for what seems like forever. I want to just go over to him and slam home, but the game needs to be finished. The candlelight dims for a moment and I glance around to see if they're guttering out, but my attention is brought back by the louder moan issuing from across the room. The light flares again, brighter than before. I can see it glinting back at me from the oil that is coating his fingers. Yes!

One of his index fingers starts rubbing in slow circles before the tip dips in. The moan that comes out of me is not the only one echoing through the room. God, I want to rush this, and keep it going forever at the same time. He is so hot!

"More."

The oil is dripping down the back of one of his legs as he sticks his ass out further. He slides his entire finger in to the hilt, then holds it still. He doesn't wait long before wiggling it around. After a moment he pulls it out and adds another. Slowly he starts moving them in and out.

I don't think I've ever seen anything more hot. If there wasn't oil all over the place, I'd have to go bury my tongue inside him. Just the thought is nearly too much for me and I reach down to squeeze myself through my jeans...only I seem to have misplaced them.

I'm sitting in an overstuffed chair, in the middle of the living room. I don't know where the chair came from, but since I'm getting such a wonderful show, there'll be no complaining from me.

"Stop!"

The order appears before I plan to say it. I stand up from the chair and stride over. I drop to my knees for a closer examination. His pucker looks loose and relaxed, but not greasy. Hmm.

I lean in for a closer look and suddenly, without thought, I'm tasting him. Oh, god. I'm licking him and poking his hole with my tongue. He's got to be enjoying it because he spreads himself a little wider and pushes back. I've got my whole tongue buried inside him and it's so hot and tight!

I can't handle it any more. He moans sorrowfully when my mouth retreats, but as I look around for the lube he was using earlier, I notice it's back and dripping down his leg again. I shrug off the gnawing feeling at the back of my mind, and surge to my feet. No use in wasting a perfect opportunity.

He holds as still as possible, when I line my cock up and rub it around, then relaxes for me. He opens, so beautifully, when I nudge and slip in.

"God!"

It's too much and it'll never be enough. When I pull back, he whimpers. When I slam back in, we both do. Neither of us are going to last, but that's okay. It *is* the point, after all.

Both of his hands are braced on the wall next to his head. I take one of his hands down and place it on his cock. He squeezes it which causes him to squeeze me. Perfect.

With my hands free, I wrap my arms around him and just let myself go, pumping hard and fast. He follows my rhythm and before long we're both collapsing against each other for support.

With a deep breath, I open my eyes. Yup. Still the same lecture. I hope I haven't missed anything important.

End 

_Originally posted at slashcity. org/ nakedflame/ fic_


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